


End of the Road

by Ubergrump



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), The Calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ubergrump/pseuds/Ubergrump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Blight, post-war, post-everything, The Calling finally takes hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Road

Eight weeks ago, the noise started. Alistair couldn’t remember exactly when it began, just the moment when he noticed how loud it was getting. The sudden realization that there was a buzzing in his head and that it had been there for a while. At first it was just a strange, mildly irritating frequency, like his ears were ringing constantly. He could even drown it out by simply talking or entering a crowded room, and often forget it was there until he found himself someplace quiet. He didn’t put too much thought into it, even joking to that he must’ve taken one too many blows to the head while training recruits.

Six weeks ago the buzzing had become a strange kind of song and he couldn’t completely drown it out anymore, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t that it was loud, just that he couldn’t forget it was there. Like a song he couldn’t quite get out of his head; a tune he only half-remembered. He found himself staring into space a little too often, and jolting back to reality with no idea how long he’d been there. Then the whispering began. So quiet, just barely there, an accompaniment to the always-playing refrain. He started pushing himself harder, finding more and more ways to occupy his time, hoping he wouldn’t have to abruptly find himself staring out into nothingness again. He rationalized his actions to himself in as many ways as he could fathom. After all, the roof really was leaking again, and they honestly did need a better stove, and one-on-one time with the struggling recruits was a great idea, but none of it could stop the damn whispering. Sometimes he wished he could figure out what the voices were saying. If they were even voices at all. Most of the time he was glad he couldn’t.

Four weeks ago the nightmares became a perpetual ordeal. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind filled with visions of the Deep Roads, of death and blood and creatures twisted beyond the guise of simple Darkspawn. It had been better in the actual Blight; at least he could fight those monsters. It was during one of these nights, the third or fourth time he had woken up covered in sweat and whimpering, hating himself for whimpering, hating his mind for torturing him, that Aderyn had finally spoken up. Fingers splayed across his chest, blue eyes shadowed in the candlelight, voice breaking over the question they were both too afraid to ask. “It’s the Calling, isn’t it?” he sighed and pulled her to him, burying his face in her hair and silent, not sure if he was unwilling to give an answer or unwilling to admit it. She moved to kiss him and told him she heard it too. Even in the dark of the night he could see through her words. She had always been a terrible liar.

Two weeks ago they’d started walking, weapons on their backs and packs light enough to hurt - every step where his shoulder strap didn’t dig into his skin was another reminder that they didn’t need much where they were going. He had been the one to suggest the trip to the Deep Roads. Aderyn had always hated the idea. “Going down fighting is a noble idea” she’d said “but have you actually thought about what that means?” Her concern was less that they would be killed in a fight and more that they wouldn’t be killed. Just left starving and crippled underground somewhere, dying slowly of hunger and thirst and the Taint. He’d told her it wouldn’t come to that, trying to sound reassuring, but ending up ominous. His fingertips brushing the hilt of a dagger in his belt, watching her hands clench at her sides. He tried telling her that this is what Wardens did. This was how they were taught. He told her he wanted to do this right, but he hadn’t been able to answer her when she asked what that actually meant.

They had reached Orzammar only hours ago, a place where they’d made too many enemies over the years to feel comfortable. Aderyn had laughed when he mentioned that, asking if he was afraid of being assassinated before he could kill himself properly. Where there were enemies, there were also friends. The king had insisted on sending them off with a small celebration and giving them supplies to last for weeks, apparently not catching on to the intention of their visit. Alistair’s head was too filled with whispering and buzzing and a melody that was at once unsettling and eerily familiar to enjoy any festivities, but he did his best to thank the proper people when he had to. He spent the rest of his time squeezing Aderyn’s hand under the table, watching her smile so brightly, and doing his best to ignore everything else.

Even as they stood at the entrance to the complex series of caverns and tunnels that seemed to go on forever, (and for them he supposed it did) Aderyn refused to admit that she was fine. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not going without me.” With that, she marched forward toward the darkened underground. For a moment he was back in the Wilds, watching the determined stride that had made her seem so very capable. He remembered thinking that she seemed the sort of person a man could follow for the rest of his life. With a grin that felt both completely out of place and exactly right, he hefted his pack and followed after her.


End file.
